So Pleased to Meet You
by the ramblin rose
Summary: Caryl AU. Oneshot. Based of a Tumblr prompt. A few coarse words. She was new to the neighborhood. She wanted to introduce herself. She wanted something from him, but she didn't come empty handed.


**AN: This is a quick, little Caryl one shot from the Tumblr prompt Caryl and "new neighbors".**

 **It's just a little something for fun.**

 **As always, I own nothing from the Walking Dead.**

 **I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**

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There was probably never a single soul that, asked out of the blue what their dream house would look like, would have announced that they would have lived in the single wide trailer—tan and white on the outside and everything inside dated firmly in the sixties or seventies—that sat on a half-acre of bad land of a dirt road in rural Wake Falls, Georgia.

But to Carol Peletier? It was practically a palace fit for a queen.

It was two bedrooms. One and a half baths. It had come fully furnished—even if the furniture was of the same age and terrible color scheme as the rest of the décor—and it had a living area with a couch and a television that worked well enough to pick up four channels as long as Carol carefully adjusted the aluminum foil wrapped antenna.

Carol had moved in, fully, the evening before and had never felt pride in her life like she felt when she accepted the keys as hers—fully and undeniably hers. She'd brought nothing with her but coffee, cleaning supplies, and a small overnight bag. The rest of her "stuff" was still at her best friend's house.

She'd spent almost the whole night scrubbing the place until it shined in all of its yellow, orange, and brown glory, and she'd gone out after her first cup of coffee and bought all the groceries that she possibly could in one swoop.

All she needed now? To make the place the home that it was meant to be? Was to return to Andrea's house to pick up the rest of her belongings and her daughter, Sophia. Then? They'd be ready to start their new life together—their new life without Ed Peletier looming over them both every moment of every day.

Carol knew that she still had a long road ahead of her, before she was fully free of the man who had been her husband for so many years, but she was making progress. That progress involved many things—among them a restraining order, a lawyer, and divorce papers. But it also included things she hadn't really expected when she'd finally gathered up the courage to walk out of the door in the middle of the night with her daughter and a few meagre belongings. It included pride in herself. It included a long forgotten feeling of strength. And it included a self-confidence she'd forgotten that she had.

And now?

Now it included a "gold" Datsun and a single wide trailer on a half-acre of land.

And it included the contemplation of a special gift for Sophia.

The neighbors, if they could be called that because their trailer was several lots over, had a sign in their yard that was tacked to a wooden stake in the yard. It advertised "Puppies for good homes," though it didn't list a price.

Ed had never even listened, for more than half a moment, to Sophia's pleas for a puppy. In fact, he'd given Carol his answer about the possible pet with the back of his hand when Sophia hadn't been around and declared that they couldn't have the animal because Carol wasn't even fit to mother the daughter to whom she'd given birth.

But Ed wasn't here. And the court would declare that Carol was much more capable of raising Sophia than her worthless father was. And a puppy? It just seemed like it might be the one thing that this little home was missing.

Before she went over there, though, Carol thought it might be nice to do something to sort of "present" herself to her neighbors. She didn't want to walk up, entirely unknown and unannounced, and offer to take a puppy right off their hands.

So she gathered together the ingredients that she needed and she set about baking cookies. A double batch. That way she'd have some to take to the neighbors—the only ones that she was sure she had for at least a mile and a half—and she'd have plenty left to leave at the house as a welcome gift to Sophia when she picked her up later.

While the cookies were baking, Carol stepped into the bright yellow bathroom and examined herself in the mirror. She was a little messy, thanks to the time spent cleaning, so she changed clothes quickly and put on some of the best ones she had.

The outfit wasn't great, and it wasn't the height of fashion—very much like Carol's new home—but it was the nicest thing she had. When she'd snatched the opportunity to flee with Sophia, while Ed had been away for a while at a friend's house, Carol had worried only with Sophia's things and the little bit of money that she'd been squirrelling away. She hadn't remembered to bring her own clothes—it hadn't been important to her. The clothes she had now she'd picked up at Goodwill because, as soon as Ed had reclaimed his car, she'd wanted to put what money she had toward a home and transportation for herself and her daughter. Even though Andrea had declared she'd spot Carol the money for clothes until she found a job? Carol had refused to take her up on it. She'd borrow the money for food, and Andrea knew she'd pay her back when she could, but she was too proud to take it for something like clothes.

Carol wasn't vain. If she ever had been? Ed Peletier had taken care of that.

Still, she did almost wish that her outfit was a little less laughable. She wasn't a young woman, but she certainly didn't feel nearly as old as the floral sweater she was wearing suggested she might be. But it would have to do. One day she'd buy new clothes. New house, new car, new job, new life, new clothes—and new member for their house hold. She snatched herself away from her contemplation of the outfit when she smelled the cookies. She ran her fingers through her short cropped hair, checked her unimpressive reflection in the mirror once more and swore that the green tinted bruises still healing on her face were the last she'd ever wear.

Carol wished she had some nice dish to take the cookies to the neighbors in, but the best thing she had was a green Tupperware bowl. At least it was clean. She packed it as nicely as she could, checked to make sure the oven was off twice, and then she let herself out of her own front door and locked it with the key that hung on a keychain that advertised a local bar. She dropped the key in her pocket, dismounted the porch steps two at a time, and walked across the span between her trailer and theirs with a purpose.

The sun, she would've sworn, was the brightest that it had ever been. The breeze was the nicest that she'd ever felt. Everything about this day was perfect. And it would be even more perfect if, when she pulled her shiny, dented and banged up Datsun, into Andrea's yard to pick up Sophia, she had a four legged surprise for her daughter riding shotgun.

Carol almost felt like she floated the distance between the trailers. When she reached her neighbors' home, she looked around. Out front there was a beat up red truck parked. Around back there appeared to be something of a metal shop or shed. Parked just in front of the shop was a motorcycle. From around back, though it wasn't readily visible to her eyes without her having to walk in that direction, she was sure she heard the sounds of the puppies that she was coming to inquire about.

She mounted the porch steps, reminding herself not to be judgemental about the overgrown weeds—she didn't know how long they'd lived there, after all—and she wrapped on the glass door. It rattled with her knock.

From inside she heard some howling. Maybe that was Mama or Daddy to the puppies.

The solid grey door opened quickly, as though it had been snatched, and a grease covered hand flattened against the glass door and pushed it open, even though the man that it belonged to hadn't looked to see who was at the door yet. He was fighting with the dog.

"Back Roofus! Back ya damn hound from hell!" The man barked.

He must have won the battle, or someone came to his rescue that Carol couldn't see, because the dog disappeared and she heard it make something of a hacking sound from somewhere inside the trailer.

The man regarded her then, through hair that was a little in need of a trim.

"Yeah?" He asked. "What'cha want?"

Despite the gruffness to his voice, and despite his dirty appearance, Carol was struck.

He was handsome. He was handsome, and he had beautiful blue eyes, even if he squinted a little too much at the sunlight and hid them except when he raised his eyebrows to ask about her business there.

Hiding the fact that she was struck, Carol put on the best smile that she could and held out the green Tupperware bowl of cookies in front of her. He regarded them as though she was handing him a bowl full of live snakes.

"I'm Carol. Carol Peletier. I just moved in next door. Over there," Carol said. "I wanted to—to bring you cookies? Say hello."

He furrowed his brow at her.

"Hello," he said.

She stayed frozen. He gnawed at his thumb nail and stared at her. Then he made something of a huffing sound, widened his eyes once more like he was realizing what was socially expected of him, and stammered out more information. "Daryl—Daryl Dixon," he said. "Uh—thanks?"

He accepted the cookies when she thrust the bowl toward him again. He regarded them in his hands like he still didn't understand what cookies were, and then he looked back at her.

"Pleased to meet you," Carol offered.

He didn't know just how pleased she felt, in fact, at the moment, and her cheeks burned a little warm at the thought.

He stammered out something that sounded vaguely like he was returning the nicety. Then he simply stared quietly at her again. Carol renewed her smile and realized that, if she was going to say anything about it, she might as well bring it up now.

"I wanted to ask you—about the puppies?" Carol asked.

Daryl got the look again of realizing what was expected of him.

"Yeah! Uh—yeah—you want one?" He asked.

"How much are they?" She asked, shielding her eyes for the moment from the same sun that was forcing him into such a squint.

He furrowed his brow.

"What?" He asked.

"How much?" Carol asked. "How much do they cost? My daughter, Sophia, she's moving in with me today. I thought it might be a nice present for her. How much do they cost? The puppies?"

Daryl still looked confused.

"They just hound mutts," he said.

Carol waited. She had no idea how much a hound mutt costed.

Daryl looked at the bowl in his hand.

"Cost about this damn many cookies," he said. "Look—you done bought one. Pick of the litter...last damn one left. He's all yours."

Carol laughed to herself and shook her head.

"I don't want to cheat you out of money," she said. "That's very sweet—but I'm willing to pay for him."

Daryl was staring at her again. Carol wasn't sure why. It was keeping her, though, from regarding him quite as intently as she might want to because she didn't want him to notice her interest.

It had been a long time since she'd really had a conversation with any man besides Ed and her lawyer—Ed didn't allow her to speak to men and she'd learned it was better for her if she avoided the entire male species like they carried the plague. She'd almost forgotten what it was to look at a man and find him attractive—and to be allowed to do so without fear of a fist headed for her face later.

It struck her then, he was probably looking at the bruises. She didn't say anything, though. And, thankfully, he didn't mention it.

He shook his head at her.

"No charge," he said. "Got the last puppy in the pen out front. But—just don't mention it to my brother that'cha woulda wanted to pay for him. He ain't worth no cash, but Merle'd try to squeeze a damn dime outta you if it killed him."

Carol smiled.

"Can I—see him?" She asked.

Daryl nodded, looked at the cookies again like he didn't know what to do about them, and then he looked back at her.

"I'll wait for you," she said. "To put them down. I'll just—start walking around back?"

She nodded as she spoke and he copied her, nodding too.

She turned then and dismounted the front porch steps. She walked around the trailer, stopping once to scratch at her ankles where the weeds were making them itch, and found herself near another roughly built porch on the backside of the place. Not long after she got there, Daryl reappeared from the back door and quickly came down the steps beside her. He walked over, without speaking, and reached into a rudely built pen and pulled a puppy out by the scruff of its neck. The dog licked at him, but he held it far enough away that it couldn't reach him. He passed it to Carol.

"There ya go," he said. "Ain't much to look at, but when Roofus come home pregnant—we ain't had no say in it. They were weaned and shit, though."

Carol loved the puppy already. It was clear that the pudgy little hound mutt was well taken care of. It lapped at her took to her immediately, and a smile crossed the lips of Daryl at the sight of the affectionate little dog.

Carol hugged it to her and scratched at it to keep it from trying to escape her.

"Roofus got pregnant?" She asked.

"Run off one night," Daryl said. "Come home and then we had six of them." 

"Roofus isn't a boy?" Carol asked, furrowing her brow.

Daryl chuckled.

"Had six puppies, what you think?" He asked.

Carol felt her face burn hot.

"Roofus—just seems like a boy's name," Carol said.

"Yeah—well—Merle had a boy dog named Roofus got run over," Daryl said. "Got Roofus off an old man we were doing some work from. Free puppy just like this. Creativity in names? It just weren't his strong point."

Carol chuckled at the explanation.

She enjoyed the way it was delivered—simple and straightforward. And she enjoyed the crooked smile that flitted across the lips of Daryl, her new neighbor. And she reminded herself, when the puppy lapped at her face again, that she really had things to do besides stand here and stare at her neighbor as he stared back at her.

She needed, now that she smelled him, to wash the puppy. And then she needed to pick up Sophia.

Today was the first day of their new lives, after all.

"Thank you for the puppy, Daryl," Carol said, feeling her cheeks inexplicably burn hot once more.

She imagined that she saw his cheeks turn red too, but she dismissed it to the effects of the sun.

"Yeah—no problem...Carol," Daryl said. "Uh—thanks for the cookies. And for—takin' him off our hands."

He reached and rubbed the dog's head and the dog lapped at his hand. Daryl smiled at the dog.

"You should come visit him some," Carol said.

"Yeah," Daryl responded. "Yeah," he repeated, without explanation. "I'll uh—see ya around?"

Carol wasn't sure if the last part was a question or a statement, but she nodded her head before she began to turn to start the trip back across the span of land toward her own new home.

"I hope so," she said. "After all—we're neighbors now."


End file.
